


Best Friend: Now Hiring

by Loose_Endz



Category: Danganronpa, danganronpa v3 - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Best Friends, Danganronpa AU, M/M, My friends screeched at me in bold until i published this, New Dangan Ronpa V3 Spoilers, Not Canon Compliant - New Dangan Ronpa V3, Other, Oumami, Post-New Dangan Ronpa V3, danganronpa - Freeform, danganronpa v3, inspired pOSSIBLY by Koe no Katachi, kind of non-despair but at the same time its really not, oh my gosh i love this dynamic, post-game AU Danganronpa, prepare for the feels you guys arent R E A D Y, theyre just bros i swear, writing this while listening to the Koe No Katachi soundtrack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:40:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loose_Endz/pseuds/Loose_Endz
Summary: “You don’t...have to, but..”He sucked in a breath, hesitating, before slowly releasing it all in one go.To say he was nervous was an understatement.“....i’m offering.”
Relationships: Oumami - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. Page 01

**Author's Note:**

> NO. #34765
> 
> Date of admission: 1/3/XXXX
> 
> Date of Disposal: X/XX/XXXX
> 
> STATUS: Alive
> 
> —————————————————

Recipient: Rantaro Amami

A: 17

HC: Green

EC: Green

NO. #34765

————————————————————

I like to collect words.

The therapist laughed when i told her that, i think. 

I told her that they just appear in my head, and no matter what i’m doing, i stop to write it down before i forget.

It was silly, but she liked it.

The way her expression sort of furrowed, and then her eyes sparkled. Her smile didn’t look sympathetic at all, from what i could tell. 

Merry.

Ms. Therapist brushes her teeth often, but she had a Spinach puff this afternoon for lunch. I could see a speck of it on her gums.

She smiles with her gums.

Not that it’s a bad thing.

Serendipity.

She told me that collecting words was a good thing. 

“You’re on the steady path to a good recovery,” she’d say, clicking her pen with every second syllable.

Its like she wanted to get out of here, too. 

Jittery.

She’s lied twice to me, now. I counted.

—————-

During Free time, i explore what i can in the hallways. I walk aimlessly, and sometimes, i listen to the sound my favorite green socks make on the floor.

Pap. Pap pap.

Walking fast is fun.

Papapapapapapapap. 

They have trees on them. It reminds me of the window from my room. 

I forget what it looks like, sometimes.

But that’s what i like about it. Its a surprise every morning.

I’m supposed to keep the lights off, in my room. It helps with headaches. So, the window is my only light. 

It’s pretty.

Sometimes though, my socks don’t do much to help me purposefully forget.

I wish it was a superpower, but sometimes i hear and remember things i think i’m not supposed to. 

I stop just past the end of the hallway, hearing a voice. 

“That poor girl went against the script,” The voice would say. Not Ms. Therapist. 

“Caused him that nasty blow to the head. It killed him instantly.” 

“He may never speak again, you know. His stats..his memory....reflexes.....Lordy, they’re all lower than the others, too.”

Pauses are never good.

She chooses her words. 

She hesitates.

“...well, not as nearly as bad as—....”

....

Who?

Who.

who. 

......

I forgot.

I don’t remember who she was referring to.

Sorry, i got distracted.

Oh well. 

Debarred. 

—————————

I’m in my room, now.

I wanted to spend my free time in here.

I was somewhere, before all of this. But i’m having trouble remembering. 

It hurts my head, to think that far back. 

Maybe i should focus on “now”. 

My “Right-Nows”, Ms. Therapist would tell me. 

It’ll come to me in due time.

...

“When your memory improves”, she said. 

..hm.

“So..never?” I asked her.

She tapped her pen 3 times against the frame of the clipboard. That meant she was nervous.

Unresponsive.

Lie number three. 

Despondent. 

—————————

I’m in the bed. Staring at the ceiling.

I decided thinking about my “Right Now’s” was too much trouble.

How about i focus on nothing, instead?

I don’t like Ms. Therapist. 

My head hurts.

I spend the next hour trying to brush the shaggy, light green hair from my face.

I wish i had a hair-clip.

But the nurses said “no hair-clips”.

They’re scared we might pick a lock with it, and do something we’re not supposed to do. I remember that.

I think.

I only remember that because its a dumb rule. It makes me mad.

......

I wonder what we’d do.

——————-

I’m supposed to write down what i feel in this journal. 

I don’t like it.

Abhor. 

They’re supposed to take it at the end of every six weeks and see how far we’ve come.

I tried asking Ms. Therapist during my session what would happen if i didn’t do anything with it.

She didn’t say anything again, and simply tucked the book smoothly between my open palms. 

Maybe she was scared to tell the truth. 

It made me mad, but its okay.

If i knew as much as Ms. Therapist did, i’d be scared, too. 

Confidential. 

———————-

I’m on my sixth paragraph.

I hate it.

I hate writing.


	2. Page 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Observing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO. #34765
> 
> Date of admission: 1/3/XXXX
> 
> Date of Disposal: X/XX/XXXX
> 
> STATUS: Alive

Recipient: Rantaro Amami

A: 17

HC: Green

EC: Green

NO. #34765  
————————————————————

I think i’m different.

.. i hear everyone is different. 

But if everyone is different, why are the other people i see treated the same? 

Why am i not like the others?

Why is my lunch different?

Why am i put in a different room?

Mine says 52.

The others say 53.

I wish i knew why. 

Indecision. 

—————————————-

I was distracted from my sixth paragraph. 

I wasn’t allowed to think about my “Right Now’s” either, like i thought i was gonna be doing on my last page. 

But its okay. I didn’t want to write, anyways.

..

——————————————-

I’m mad, today.

I went to the man. He said he was going to help me, so i wouldn’t have to use my magic book all the time for speaking one day. 

I visit too many people every day. 

Ms. Therapist, the man, the nurses. 

He said we would start off “easy”.

“Easy” is hard.

I hate easy.

We tried saying “Hello”.

We tried saying “Help”.

The man said that these are important words, i think. I needed them for something.

I don’t remember what.

He said its okay to not remember.

I don’t like these “important words.”

If they’re so important, why do i need to learn it in the first place? Shouldn’t i know them at the start?

I’m going to try again.

—————————————-

I’m back, and i tried.

It didn’t sound like “hello” at all.

I’m going to try “Help” now.

————————————————

That didn’t work.

I sounded like my door.

It squeaks, and then dies. 

I wish it were fixed. 

Crave. 

————————————————

I’m tired.

I want to go to bed.

But the nurses will come in soon, and they’ll say that “its time for lunch!”

I don’t like lunch.

I’m the only person in lunch.

Its too quiet.

I wonder what would happen if i said something in there.

Like what Mr. Man taught me.

He’s a bad teacher. 

——————————————————-

I’m lying on my back.

I like watching the ceiling.

It’s plain.

But sometimes, it reminds me of the sky outside.

I don’t remember, but i’m pretty sure that at one point, it was clear and blue, just like this.

I like to close my eyes sometimes, and pretend i’m outside. 

I’m always interrupted, though.

The others, with their 53 rooms. They’re loud. 

I haven’t seen them, but i know they’re there.

Thinking about them makes my head hurt.

I want to smoosh my head into a pillow now.

—————————————————————

I like the word smoosh. 

Its pillowy and soft. 

I think of marshmallows, when i hear the word smoosh. 

I heard it when i pressed my face into the pillow. 

Smoosh! 

————————————————————

Lunch is soon.

I can see my clock on the wall.

I have the time written on my clipboard, on my bed. So then, no one forgets.

I feel messy in my clothes. I hate lunch.

Its empty, and quiet, and sometimes baked beans fall onto my long shirt.

I don’t like my hospital gown. 

It’s pale and it has really small spots.

It makes me look like a big old mushroom. 

And it makes me smell like baked beans.

————————————————————-

Head damage. 

Amnesia? 

I don’t remember.

Damage. 

Catastrophic.

“Its almost time for lunch,” the nurses said. They just came in.

I didn’t want to go, so i asked why i had to go there at all. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” They said.

I was.

Not for soup.

I want hot pockets.

——————————————

They said, that i was hit real bad.

I don’t remember that. 

I tried asking them something else, when i got off the bed. 

But my hands locked up.

My magic book spilled, and we had to pick it up together.

They wouldn’t answer me after that. 

———————————————————-

I made sure to stomp extra hard when i was walking out of my room.

I wanted them to know i didn’t want to go.

I tried to make my paps as scary as i could.

But i don’t think people can get scared of my favorite tree socks. 

They’re just trees.

They held my magic book for me, so it wouldn’t spill again. 

I’m walking out of the room.

I softened my paps.

My feet hurt, now.


	3. Page 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cafeteria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO. #34765
> 
> Date of admission: 1/3/XXXX
> 
> Date of Disposal: X/XX/XXXX
> 
> STATUS: Alive
> 
> —————————————————

Recipient: Rantaro Amami

A: 17

HC: Green

EC: Green

NO. #34765  
————————————————————

I love cornbread.

Today’s a good day, when there’s cornbread. Its the highlight of Thursday.

Did you know? Thursday is my favorite day. Its my all time favorite day. On Thursday’s, the cafeteria people give out corn bread and chicken drumsticks and chocolate milk. 

I walked quicker to the trays than I would have on a Tuesday. On Tuesday’s, they have beans. Baked beans. 

Baked beans are smelly and gross. 

One time, I wanted to do some experimenting, so I put beans on my spoon and flicked it up.  
It stuck!

Stuck right to the ceiling!

That was my favorite Tuesday.

But the joy is taken out of sticky bean Tuesday when I don’t have anyone else to tell about it.

Sticky Bean Tuesday becomes the Tuesday it was before.

Plain Tuesday.

————————————

Its empty here.

Desolate.

My tray is full.

My utensils make echoey sounds when i smack them together.

————————————

The monitor told me to focus on eating.

“You’re not a drummer, Amami.”

What if I want to be a drummer? 

Killjoy.

————————————

I rarely talk. That’s what the nurses said.

When i do, its just squeaks. 

Like a little mouse.

Rodent. 

I imagined myself being a drummer, but the drumsticks were chicken.

My audience would be my flock. 

I nearly choked on my cornbread. I laughed.

No one heard me.

The monitor had to use the bathroom.

It echoed.

It made me sad again.

————————————

There’s one perk to having an “alone” lunch.

The nurses said that its because my headaches get really bad, and I get overwhelmed. 

Something to do with Senses. 

Too much of them at once make my head hurt. And my vision gets fuzzy and bad if i’m in a very loud place for too long. 

My head pains make me feel woozy. I don’t like them.

I remember that. 

My brain is sensitive right now, that’s what they said.

The perk to having an alone lunch! 

The answer wasn’t my tangent.

And...its even better than cornbread Thursday.

I can sit wherever i want!

————————————

My favorite place in the whole entire world is the table by the window.

The big, big window.

I’m not allowed to go out there, yet. 

The nurses said mr. man needs to help me with my coordination and moving.

I think my coordination and moving is just fine.

I made sure to tell them that when they first told me, 

but then they said back that my books fall out a lot. And I trip sometimes. And they always need to remind me to walk slower. 

I think they’re just pointing out my insecurities.

I hate those guys.

I’d like to see them coordinate.

————————————

Across from the big, big window is a courtyard. It has a big tree.

I told myself i’d climb that tree, one day. I always tell Ms. therapist that the tree is where i wanna go.

She says its good that I “have a goal for the future”. 

Everyone has a goal. I told her that. Its not too important.

Her eyes read “not everyone”. 

But she didn’t say anything.

I wonder who she meant. 

Away from the courtyard is another building.

Ms. therapist told me that it was for the 53 people. The ones who weren’t... struggling.

I’m not struggling at all. I don’t know what they mean. 

Everyone is different.

Why am i not treated the same?

————————————

Sometimes, i like to count how many silhouettes i can see in the 53 people building.

That’s hard though, when they all look the same.

Sometimes, they run.

One of them is very tall.

I’ve only seen them 3 times.

I wonder if the tall silhouette would like to climb the goal tree with me.

————————————

I like drumsticks.

Chicken drumsticks.

They’re a little sour, but they’re also savory.

You should try them with cornbread. Combine them. It’s good.

You should take a little bite of the chicken, and then a little bite of the cornbread, though.

Putting it all in your mouth at once is a bad idea.

Ive never done that, but i came close, once.

It was the first cornbread Thursday.

It was not a good experience.

————————————

Chocolate milk

Chocolate milk

My second most favorite part

Close to cornbread

But not quite!

Sweet and sugary!

But it never lasts long.

The boxes are really small.

Maybe I can make a special request for Mr. Man. 

I would enjoy coordinating much more if I got chocolate milk at the end.

But I finished all my sessions for today.

After lunch, I go back to my room.

I’ll ask him tomorrow. 

————————————

I saw two silhouettes in the 53 people building.

They sat there for 9 minutes. I counted.

They talked.

They left.

I wish i could do that, one day.

————————————

Cornbread takes away the sorrows, when all the chicken drumsticks are gone.

I wish they didn’t come in tiny little cakes.

I would like a giant loaf of cornbread.


End file.
